Today is the six month anniversary since Mom died, a day for me to commemorate and mark how I am changed from who, what, and how I was that day in August. Among the many truths that I know:
- I am no longer scared of impacting people.
- My capacity to love is vast, beyond my ability to comprehend therefore limitless.
- I received more love and care in the last four months than I’ve ever known that I could accept.
- It is time for me for me to finally embrace.
- Black Music moves me, and just about all of us.
- My empathy assists, and I am discerning about where I place boundaries on my empathy.
- Sometimes recognizing miscommunication as nothing more helps me avoid spiraling.
- Perceptions are reality and our reality is malleable.
- The chapters of fatherhood, motherhood, parenthood keep unfurling.
- My new love languages include beverages, vernacular, food, music, play, sharing, listening. One of my oldest love languages is asking incisive questions.
- I am surrounded by poets and authors and illustrators. They beckon me to write more.
- Care by others nudges my capacities for forgiveness and playfulness.
- Vulnerability is a superpower.
So much has shifted in this half year: relationships, senses, my proximity to and fondness for mortality as the shadow that gives all life aliveness.
I cannot begin to fathom what my life will consist of six months from now. I can imagine, my imagination expands with aliveness, the momentum of curiosity spurring my days along like a round object pulled by gravity downhill.
New friends, new rhythms, new practices that foster further inversions, a whirlpool of energy beaming light and sound and spirit with each spin.
washing dishes: a father’s glimpses 